Matryoshka
by lamentomori
Summary: Two years ago, Dean had been in The Relationship, but now The One is getting married. He has an invitation to the wedding, and a plan to get The One back. Warnings: Slash (Ambrose/Punk), Mild Slash (Brock Lesnar/Seth Rollins), AU, Smut, Profanity.


_Warnings: Slash (Ambrose/Punk), Mild Slash (Brock Lesnar/Seth Rollins), AU, Smut, Profanity._

* * *

"I need you to do me a favour." He's not Dean's first choice for this request, but in all honesty, Punk is the best for this particular problem. It's a big ask, Dean knows this, but he thinks Punk'll be up for it. He's a pretty easy going guy, well not exactly, but he's usually up for helping a friend. Punk looks at him sceptically, one eyebrow raised.

"What?" He turns back to the book he's reading, and Dean sighs dramatically, then tosses him the envelope. Inside this seemingly innocuous little thing is the final nail in the coffin of a relationship Dean's always wanted back. Two years ago Dean was in a relationship. It wasn't just _a_ relationship, it was _the_ relationship. He'd been convinced it was with _The One_. Seth was everything Dean could want. Tall, slender, well-muscled, handsome, with the biggest, brightest, deepest eyes, a smile that could melt glaciers, and an ass for days. They'd been dating since college. They'd met in a total cliché, at a bar. Dean had been mesmerised, and bought Seth a drink. One beer led to two, and then it lead to a coffee the next morning, which led to dinner. Months of dates finally led to them officially being a couple. They'd graduated together, they'd faced the poverty of graduation together, they'd lived together, but that came to a sudden end. Seth had met his fiancée through his work. Seth studied journalism, and managed to get a job as a junior sports writer for some website. Dean had been proud of him for finding a job in his chosen career so quickly. If he'd known at the time Seth's job would take him away, Dean would probably have been less proud. Seth's first assignment had been to interview some cage fighter. The day after, Seth had been _quiet_. One thing you could never say about Seth is that he's quiet. It barely took a month for Seth to dump Dean, and shack up with his cage fighter. Inside that little envelope is an invitation to his wedding. An invitation which is addressed to Dean Ambrose and guest. There's no way Dean's not bringing a guest. He's not showing up to Seth's wedding empty-armed. The only problem is, Dean's single. He's been purposefully single since Seth left. Purposefully single, and hoping that Seth will come to his senses.

"So..." Dean starts bravely, but trails off quickly. Punk's read the invitation, then tucked it in the back of his book, seemingly utterly uninterested in it. He glances over the top of his book at Dean, and shakes his head once. "Come on! I need this!" Punk snorts dismissively at him, and deliberately turns the page.

"I'm not going to _The One's_ wedding. I've absolutely no interest in babysitting your drunk ass all night." Punk doesn't look up from his book, and Dean scoots over the couch, snuggling up close to Punk's side, pressing Punk against the arm of the couch. "Don't even try to appeal to my better nature, we both know it doesn't exist, and that puppy-eyes don't work on me."

"It's not one night." Dean squirms, and manages to insert his face between Punk's and his book. He forces his brightest, sweetest, most charming smile to his lips.

"Dean-"

"It's a weekend... _But_ it's up in the mountains! You can go skiing, and hiking, and there'll be smores, and hot chocolate, and-"

"And no." Punk scowls at him.

"Please." Dean moves, and sits beside Punk, slinging one arm around his shoulders, ignoring the way Punk tenses underneath him. "I wouldn't ask you if there was _anyone_ else, but there isn't, and you're my roomy! We're supposed to help each other out."

"When exactly have you helped me out, hmm?" Punk tosses his book down on the coffee table, his eyes narrowed as he glares at Dean.

"Plenty! I..." Dean's mind stalls, failing to think of a single occasion when Punk's come begging a favour of him. There _has_ to be one, but Dean's drawing a blank.

"Yeah... _Plenty_." Punk smirks at him, and Dean gives up, settling once more for the puppy-eyes.

"We go up on Friday night. We get a night in a fancy hotel, and then the big wedding, _then_ another night in the same fancy hotel, with all of Sunday to do as we please, and back home on Monday... It'll be fun." Dean smiles hopefully, and Punk levels him with a heavy, blank stare.

"Why me, Dean?" He asks, his arms folded over his chest, his expression closed. It's a far bigger question than he realises. Dean wants him to come with him for many reasons, but the biggest is he's kind of hoping to make Seth feel sorry for him. Punk's pretty much the opposite of Seth, and Dean's hoping that when Seth sees what Dean's with now, he'll feel so bad that he'll run back to Dean, though he doesn't think that'll go down too well with Punk. There are other better, though more painful reasons that might appeal to Punk's often denied better nature.

"I don't wanna go on my own. He was... Seth was, _is_ the love of my life, and he's marrying someone else. I can't face that on my own." Dean glances away, unable to admit something so personal under Punk's blank glare. Punk's hand on his shoulder startles Dean, and he looks up at him.

"I'm going to regret this, aren't I?" He asks softly.

"You'll come with me?" Dean, without thinking, snatches up both of Punk's hands, and squeezes them tightly. Punk generally doesn't much like being grabbed, and he reacts badly, yanking his hands free, and moving from the couch to the chair on the other side of the coffee table.

"I agree to help you." Punk says quietly, his hands hidden up the sleeves of his shirt. "On one condition." His eyes dart around the room, like he can't decide where he should be looking.

"Almost literally _anything_." Dean's trying to think of what Punk could possibly want, but he's not good at predicting Punk. His room-mate is always capable of confounding him.

"I want you to..." Punk's gaze settles on the book he'd been reading. "I... I'll tell you later. It's nothing over the top, but... I'll tell you later." Punk grabs his book, and resumes ignoring Dean.

"Well, that's ominous." Dean laughs.

"Take it, or leave it." Punk shrugs. Dean has no choice, and if he knows Punk at all, his request will be mostly harmless. Punk's not overly given to letting other people take care of things for him, there's an independent streak a mile wide in him.

"Oh, I will take it! I'll take it a thousand times over." Punk laughs at him, and looks over the top of his book with a decidedly wicked smirk.

"Well, that's good to know." He laughs as Dean's cheeks start burning. He's usually a lot less prone to walking straight into innuendo. "So what's the dress-code?" Punk pulls the invitation out of his book, and starts reading it over again. Dean already knows what the dress-code is, and he doubts Punk'll be impressed.

The rest of the week, the invitation arrived on Monday, Dean spends concocting a story of how he and Punk came to be dating. He spends hours each night drilling Punk on it, to the point where Punk got so annoyed he fled. Where he went, Dean's no idea, but he came back in a much better mood, and with a large suit bag slung over his shoulder. Dean ended up having to rent a suit, not that he minded, but he thinks that Seth might, and he doesn't want to unimpress Seth, even now he wants Seth to be impressed with him.

On Friday, they set off after Dean, and presumably Punk have finished working. In all honesty, Dean's not entirely certain what it is Punk does for a living. He's often out at weird hours, and when he's in the apartment, he'll be sitting around with his nose buried in a book or watching TV. When pressed on his profession Punk will change the subject artfully, and by the time the conversation's done, Dean'll have forgotten what they'd started talking about in the first place. Punk is, by nature, a very evasive and standoffish man. It's not a bad thing, it's just weird for Dean. Seth had been so available _all_ the time. He'd throw his emotions at you with the heart-felt honesty of a child. He'd spill every thought, every idea, every thing out at Dean constantly, and after that, Punk's more reserved nature is _odd._ Dean does like it though, when Punk tells you something, it's because he thinks it's important, with Seth he told you things because he'd thought of them.

The drive up to the mountains is one Dean insists on making. Punk's already doing him enough of a favour in being there. It's a pleasant drive, the scenery is beautiful, and when it comes into view, the hotel is nice too, nestled on the side of a mountain, with a forest wrapping around it, then flowing down to a little guardhouse. It looks as beautiful as the photos online, more beautiful even. Punk's still engrossed in his book, ignoring Dean as he has been for most of the drive out here, and there's a part of Dean that thinks he should be enjoying the glory of nature instead of words on a page.

"You remember everything?" Dean asks, glancing over at Punk once more, before turning onto the long winding road up to the hotel, and informing the guard that he's there for Seth's wedding.

"We met about a year and half ago when I was looking for a room-mate." That part of the story is true. Dean had decided that sticking to the truth where they could was the best idea. The less made-up stuff he has to keep track track of the better. "We started dating six months ago. Our first date was at some fancy restaurant, but neither of us are fancy restaurant guys, so we ended up getting pizza instead. How am I doing so far? Sticking to your stupid story?" Punk sets his book down, and starts looking out of the window. "At least it's pretty." He mutters.

"Yeah... It's nice." Dean sighs. "Seth's always had an eye for this sort of thing." He laughs, and can feel Punk's eyes on him. He thinks that he sounds too wistful even now, even two years after being dumped Dean's still hung-up on Seth. It hits him then that this was almost undoubtedly a horrible idea. "I should have said no, shouldn't I?"

"Yes." Punk answers plainly, and Dean barks a laugh at his bluntness. "But you didn't, and we're here now." Punk sighs, and smiles at him. "I'm not a very good actor, I warn you now... I probably should have warned you sooner really." It actually looks like Punk's blushing slightly, and Dean's more than a little surprised. He didn't think Punk was capable of being embarrassed.

"It'll be fine." Dean mutters, his mind conjuring all the ways in which this situation will be anything but fine. All of the people he went to Uni with will be there, Seth's family, people who know Dean, people who've seen him in love, and are going to be going over his relationship with Punk with a fine toothed comb. Worse than that though, Seth's fiancée will be there. The man who stole Seth from him. The man who Seth is marrying. The man who is decidedly not Dean. The cage fighter. The big, muscular, shaved albino gorilla who stole the love of Dean's life. "We're gonna have to engage in PDAs." Dean says suddenly. Punk squawks. There's no other word to describe the noise he makes just then. It was a kind of high-pitched, indignant noise that makes Dean laugh at him. "We've been dating six months, Punk."

"Exactly! Six months! We should ask for separate beds." He folds his arms over his chest, and seems to be pointedly staring out of the passenger side window. "We can hold hands, and... Warn me, okay?" He mutters without turning to look at Dean. "If you're going to do something _affectionate_ warn me."

"How? You want me to be all _hey sweetie-pie I'm gonna kiss you, and cuddle you, and then fuck you in front of the groom?_ " Dean laughs, and Punk turns quickly to glare at him, his lips pressed into a thin line.

"First, do not call me _sweetie-pie_. Second do you honestly think this is an unreasonable request? Is it unreasonable that I should want you to ask me if it's okay to hold my hand, or to kiss me? Is it-"

"Alright." Dean slows the car as they approach the parking lot, scanning around for a spot to park. "I'll give you a warning... Fuck, I'll even ask if it makes you feel better."

"Thank you." Punk mumbles, and scrubs a hand over his face. He looks like he might be going to say something else, when his attention is caught by a figure waving over at the car, directing them to an empty space. "There, where the waving idiot is."

"That's him..." Dean's heart leaps into his throat, and Punk scoffs.

" _That's_ Seth?" He sounds horribly unimpressed, but Dean doesn't care. His attention is entirely caught by Seth. He looks incredible. Beneath his suit he looks even more built, his hair is back to it's natural state, the blond patch he used to have is gone, his beard is neatly trimmed, his smile even more heartbreakingly handsome than Dean remembers.

"Dean! I'm so happy you made it!" Seth's loud, enthusiastic screech is wonderful to Dean's ears, but Punk seems to wince at the sound of it. Seth rushes over to Dean, and pulls him into a tight hug. It takes everything Dean has to not pull Seth in tighter. This brief moment of having him back in his arms, it makes Dean mourn the past. "And you brought someone..." Seth steps away from Dean, his eyes focussed on Punk.

"Phil." Punk offers Seth his hand, and Dean's eternally grateful that Punk decided to use his government name, and not the nickname most people know him by. The look Seth is giving him, almost scathingly dismissive is bad enough, he doesn't need a stupid nickname making things worse.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Phil. Dean didn't tell me he was seeing someone..." Seth smiles awkwardly, shaking Punk's hand quickly, and then stuffing his hands into his pockets. The expression in his eyes is almost disgusted, but Dean can understand where Seth's coming from. Punk looks _slightly_ homeless, or at least like a man who's down on his luck. His beard is ridiculously long, and thick, his hair is a shaggy mess, prone to sticking up in a million different directions. He is the exact opposite of Seth's sleek, refined looks, and it seems like Dean's plan for getting Seth back is working perfectly.

"It's... We're taking it slow." Punk offers, and glances over at Dean, a barely there smile on his lips.

"Ah! I see." Seth nods, and then gestures to the hotel. "So dinner is at seven, formal dress _please_. I can only hope you've better luck at getting him to look nice than me." Seth starts walking, clearly expecting to be followed. "He _always_ hated having to look fancy."

"I don't see the point in getting dressed up, Seth." Dean mutters, helping Punk with their luggage, and trailing after his ex, his eyes unashamedly focussed on Seth's pert ass.

"It's _nice_." Seth snaps, and then laughs, turning to face them. " _God..._ It's like nothing's changed." He smiles brightly, and rests a hand on Dean's shoulder, his eyes flicking to Punk as he squeezes. "I'm so happy we stayed friends, Dean. I'd really hate for you to miss my wedding." With that Seth shoots Punk an odd look, an expression so odd that Dean wants to turn around so he can see what expression Punk's wearing to cause it. "You're in room four-three-four." Seth leads them to the elevators, and then leaves Dean and Punk alone.

"How the hell did you manage to date that guy?" Punk hisses once they're inside their room.

"Huh?" Dean mutters, not really paying attention to what Punk's saying. There's only one bed, something Dean had been expecting, but hadn't thought on the logistics of. One bed means that they'll have to share. "I'll take the couch." Punk tosses his bag at the couch Dean hadn't even seen, then flops down on to it. He starts rooting through his bag, and pulls his book out, opening it.

"You don't have to... I dragged you out here." Dean takes a seat on the edge of the bed, and watches Punk carefully not looking at him, clearly pretending to read as his eyes aren't moving over the page at all.

"I'm shorter than you-"

"By _inches_!"

"Like I was saying, I'm shorter, and I fold up better. You take the bed, Dean." Punk's eyes flicker up from what he's not reading to meet Dean's, a small smiles flits over Punk's lips, and he turns back to his book. "I don't mind sleeping on couches. Before I moved into the apartment, I was couch surfing, so it's nothing new." Dean nods absently at Punk's words, and isn't sure how to answer that. Punk's not usually so open about himself. That little snippet of information is one of precious few Dean has about Punk.

"You sure?" Dean can't help but asking, and Punk nods absently, his attention genuinely caught by his book this time.

"So are we going to dinner?" Punk asks after maybe an hour has passed. Dean had taken to watching TV, and panicking about what kind of suits Punk had in the suit bag. He's dreading Punk pulling out a plum velour, or a powder blue polyester one. He wouldn't put it past Punk to pull a mean prank like that.

"It'd be rude not to." Dean grabs his own suit bag, and considers the fact that he has one suit in there. He needs it for tomorrow, so tonight it's going to have to be one of the button-downs with a pair of formal pants.

"I'm really not above being rude." Punk grins at him, and Dean tosses a pair of balled socks, from his luggage, at Punk's head. "Alright, alright. I'll be on my best behaviour." He stands, stretching, and carts his suit bag towards the bathroom. "It's six thirty by the way. If you wanna have dinner, you better get a move on." He says as he closes the door.

The dining room is heaving when they arrive, taking a table quite near the door where some people Dean knows he went to Uni with, but can't remember the names of are sitting.

"Hey Deano!" A woman Dean vaguely remembers getting wasted every chance she could singsongs at him when he takes a seat near her. It seems she's not changed much since college. "So! I have to say I'm surprised that it's not you up there." She waves her wineglass in the direction of where Seth and his fiancée are sitting.

"I know!" The man sitting beside the woman chimes in, and starts topping up her drink. "Wine, gentlemen?" Dean offers his glass, and Punk refuses with little more than a shake of his head. "So, what happened with you two, Dan?"

"Dean." Punk corrects quietly, he seems distinctly uncomfortable with being here, and Dean honestly can't blame him. There's more than a few people staring at him, and whispering behind their hands. Dean had never realised he knew so many judgemental people.

"Yeah, yeah... _Dean,_ what happened with you and Sethie?" The man spares Punk a quick, critical glance, and focusses on Dean once more.

"We... Well... It's complicated." Dean snatches up his wine glass, and drains it in one go. "Another."

That's almost entirely how the whole dinner passes, someone will come over to Dean, ask him what happened between him and Seth, then Dean will down another glass of wine. He's not entirely sure that he actually _ate_ anything, and at some stage he loses Punk. He honestly has no idea how he made it back to the room, but when he wakes up he's lying sprawled over the bed, the comforter draped over him.

He elects to have a shower, and as the water beats down on him, a strange memory comes back to him. Punk and Seth's fiancée talking in a corridor.

" _Why the fuck are you here?" The fiancée leaning in close, Punk's arms folded over his chest, his lips pressed into a thin line._

" _I'm here, because I'm dating Dean." He snaps, his eyes flicking around like he's trying to spot something in particular._

" _Bullshit, he's not your type." The fiancée replies, and catches Punk's chin, turning Punk's face to him._

" _Types change." Punk steps back, freeing himself from the fiancée's grip._

" _Not that much... I know you... He's not really what you're into. You like 'em bigger." The fiancée laughs, and Punk scowls at him, looking like he's going to say more when he spots Dean, and hurries over to his side._

Dean's not sure if it's a memory, or some strange drunken hallucination, but it's not overly important. What's important is that they get through today. This is the biggest test. This is when Punk's services as fake boyfriend are truly put to the test. Once he's clean, Dean feels slightly more human, but it's still early, so he slips his boxers on, and slinks back into bed. From where he's lying he can see Punk. He's curled up on the couch, a blanket wrapped around him tightly. The strange memory tries to drag itself back to the front of Dean's mind, but he shakes it off, watching Punk as he squirms in his sleep. Dean can feel the beginning of a hangover forming, and he quickly closes his eyes, hoping to sleep it off.

When he wakes up again he feels horrible, and he's no idea how he's going to get through the wedding. The whole thing starts at eleven, and is scheduled to last all day. Punk looks exhausted when he wakes up, and he doesn't seem capable of doing more than sitting on the couch yawning, until Dean orders a pot of coffee from Room Service. Once he's caffeinated he's more like himself, and quickly commandeers the bathroom. Dean had already showered, so he's really only faced with the prospect of putting on his suit, surviving this hangover, and making himself look happy about watching the man he loves marry someone else.

"Do I look okay?" The Punk that emerges from the bathroom isn't one Dean's ever seen. In place of Punk's long, scruffy beard is a neatly trimmed one that hugs the curve of his jaw, and frames his thin lips. The usual mess of hair on his head is slicked back neatly. His normal wardrobe of shapeless, too big hoodies, and overly baggy jeans is replaced with a well fitted, beautifully tailored suit.

"Fucking hell, Punk. You scrub up good." Dean knows he's staring, but he thinks he can be forgiven for that. He's known Punk for around eighteen months, and he's never seen him look anything other than like he's homeless. The man in front of him looks the exact opposite of the Punk Dean knows. Normal Punk isn't exactly unattractive, or at least once you get past the scruff, and how unkempt he looks, but trimmed, and scrubbed up Punk is undeniably good-looking, undeniably someone Dean would want, if he wasn't still hung-up on Seth. "People are gonna think I started dating a different guy." Dean laughs, and Punk definitely starts blushing. He doesn't seem able to meet Dean's eyes, and instead sits down to pull his shoes on.

"What's the plan for this then?" He asks, the task of tying his laces apparently requiring all of his attention.

"Survival, Punk. We survive this." Dean mutters, and loops his tie around his neck. "I think we'll be pretty near the back, so I guess we watch Seth marry some asshole, and then I'll get smashed at the bar... On that note, how did I get up here last night?"

"I carried you." Punk comes over, and turns Dean around, fixing his tie for him. "Matching knots." He grins.

"Can I come in?" There's a call from the other side of the door, and Dean freezes. He'd know Seth's voice anywhere. Punk pales, and quickly tosses the blanket and pillow on the couch at the bed. The door opens, and Dean's breath catches in his throat. Seth is gorgeous, though he looks unhappy.

"Sethie?" Dean hurries over to him, and catches his hands quickly, pulling him into the room. "What is it?" Dean glances over at Punk, at the slightly murderous look on his face.

"Yeah, _Sethie_ , what is it?" He snaps, and Dean suddenly remembers the whole ruse, that Punk's his _boyfriend_ not Seth. Seth glares over at Punk, something unpleasant obviously on the tip of his tongue, but his mouth snaps shut once he takes a good look at Punk. Dean lets go of Seth's hands, and moves over to Punk.

" _I'm gonna kiss you._ " Dean whispers by way of warning, and presses a quick kiss to Punk's temple. "I'm sure he's just here to make sure we're not gonna be late for his wedding, babe. Isn't that right, _Sethie_?" Dean's surprised by how naturally Punk had managed to act under that gentle little peck of a kiss. For a man who usually can't bear to be touched, he made that look like the most normal thing in the world.

"I'm..." Seth sighs, and scowls, his attention focussed on Punk. "Can I talk to him alone?" He waves at Dean, and Punk turns to Dean. He nods slightly, trying to hold his elation in check. This is exactly what he wanted. Seth's come to him, Seth wants to talk to him alone. This is his chance to win Seth back. Punk looks reluctant to leave, but he does slip from the room, leaving Dean alone with the love of his life for the first time in two years. "He looks like a different person when he showers, doesn't he?" Seth laughs softly, and smiles at Dean. "I had come up here to ask if you minded if he wasn't in any of the photos, but... Well, it's redundant now, isn't it?" Dean stares blankly at Seth. He'd forgotten how shallow Seth could be. It's not a bad thing, but it's kind of jarring after two years to be reminded of something that had once been common place.

"He's..." Dean trails off, not sure where he's going with that sentence. "So, what can I do for you, Seth?"

"I... I wanted to know why you're here, Deanie." Dean had forgotten Seth's annoying habit of calling him Deanie. He'd thought it was cute the first time, but it stuck, and it's the only thing he's not missed about Seth.

"I wanted to make sure you're happy, Seth... I never... I never once stopped loving you." Dean steps closer, gently taking Seth's hands.

"What about Phil?" He asks softly, and _who_ is on the tip of Dean's tongue before he remembers that's Punk's real name.

"He's..." Dean's not sure how to answer that. Punk's here as a favour. Dean's not really dating him, but he can't say that to Seth. "It's like he said, we're taking it slow. I... What happened to us, Seth? We were _so_ good together, baby." Seth twists his hands free, and shakes his head.

"I fell in love with Brock, Dean... He's _amazing_. He's everything I've ever wanted in a man. Strong, handsome, charming, sweet-"

"Big?" Dean mutters, the memory that'd come to him in the shower surfacing once more. Seth turns beet red, and smacks Dean's shoulder.

" _Huge_!" He laughs. "Seriously though, we were children. It was never going to last, Dean. I'm glad you've moved on. Phil seems... Well, I'm hoping to get to talk to him some more, but I'm glad you're with someone. I was worried for you, your messages were always so... It's not the same as it was, but I'd like for us to be friends." In that moment, with those words from Seth's mouth, Dean decides he's going to get so drunk he can't move as soon as he can.

"Yeah... _Friends_." The smile Dean forces to his lips feels like daggers being rammed into his heart. Seth beams at him, and hugs him again. His lips brush Dean's cheek. A tiny, pale imitation off the intimacy they once shared.

"Okay." Seth grins, and steps away, his hands resting on Dean's shoulders. "Right! I'll see you out there." He leaves the room, and Dean crumples onto the bed. It feels like he's been lying there for an eternity when Punk comes back, and pokes him in the side.

"C'mon, we've a wedding to get to." He mutters. Dean groans, sitting up.

"My heart is in pieces, and you're worrying about this wedding? You're a shit boyfriend, no wonder you're single." Dean takes his shoes from Punk, and stuffs his feet into them. "I'm going to hold your hand. I need the moral support." He warns Punk, and grabs his hand, relieved that Punk only tries to tug away once.

The service is beautiful. Seth's family did themselves proud. The happy couple look infuriatingly just that. They look delighted. They look perfect for each other, and Dean can't find it in himself to hate them for that. He can resent Brock, but he can't hate the happiness he brings Seth, because seeing Seth so happy makes Dean happy for him. They're clearly better together than Dean and Seth were. It hurts to admit, but it's true.

"How you holding up?" Punk asks halfway through the ceremony, and Dean can't really find it in himself to answer properly. He shrugs vaguely, and when Punk takes his hand, holding it tightly, he's grateful for the silent show of support.

After the ceremony's finished, they're all ushered into the dining room, and Dean wastes no time in starting on the wine. He intended to get wrecked, and he means to follow through on that intent. He finishes the first bottle of wine before the first course is served, and by the time dessert is over he's polished off another bottle. Punk seems to be fending off a lot more advances than he seems happy about. The men approaching him are clearly all friends, or colleagues at least, of Brock. Big, solid guys who seem intent on getting Punk out onto the dance floor with them. Punk waves them all off. He seems to be taking his role of Dean's _boyfriend_ very seriously, constantly asking Dean if he thinks he's had enough, if he'd like some bread to soak the booze up, or at least some water to dilute all the wine he's consumed.

"Say, Dean?" Dean glances up from his contemplation of his wine glass, and the unfairness of his lot in life at the sound of his name from an unfamiliar voice. He sees Seth, and his new husband standing in front of him.

"Yeah?" He's not sure what they want, but Seth actually looks slightly annoyed about being there, and whilst he had always hated when Dean drank too much, Dean's pretty confident that's not what's causing Seth's annoyance.

"You mind if I borrow the lovely Punk?" Brock holds his hand out to Punk. Dean's almost inclined to tell him to fuck off, he's already stolen the love of Dean's life, he doesn't need to be stealing his room-mate too. Punk laughs, and lets Brock pull him to his feet, and out onto the dance floor. Seth takes Punk's seat, and pours himself a glass of wine.

"How did you meet him, Dean? He's really not the sort of guy I'd expect you to go for." Seth sounds _pissy_.

"He was looking for a room-mate. I managed six months in our place, but I couldn't afford the rent on my own, and it was _our_ place... It just wasn't the same without you." Dean mutters, watching Brock dancing with Punk. Punk looks _tiny_ compared to Brock, and Punk's not a small guy.

"But..." Seth shakes his head, and downs his wine. "What are you doing now? Still in the same job?" He changes the subject, turning to face Dean properly, ignoring the sight of his husband dancing with someone else.

"Yeah... I... Nothing much has changed, Seth. There's not much point in changing without you." Dean drains his glass, and tops it up.

"One thing's changed." Seth offers his glass for a refill.

"Yeah, you're married to someone else." Dean snarls unhappily as he fills Seth's glass.

"I was talking about you and Phil." He laughs. It takes Dean's drunk brain a moment to catch up, and he manages to laugh along without too much delay.

"Yeah, me and Phil." Dean trails off, turning to look at Seth, but he's not paying attention. He's focussed on his husband and Dean's _boyfriend_ , an ugly scowl on his face. Dean wonders if he should say something, but the song ends, and Punk is back with them quickly. Seth grabs his husband, and the pair of them are out dancing together as though nothing happened.

"You wanna dance?" Punk asks after Dean's finished another bottle of wine. He looks over at Punk blankly. He's sure he's not sober enough to be able to do much other than sway uncoordinatedly, so he shakes his head. The next time a man asks Punk to dance, he accepts, and Dean starts in on another bottle of wine. When that bottle's done, Dean decides he's probably had enough, and barges out onto the dance floor to fetch Punk.

"We're going to bed." Dean takes Punk's wrist, and cuts in on the man he was dancing with. The man spares Dean a harsh look, and says something to Punk that's too quiet for Dean to hear. Punk shakes his head at the man, and he skulks off, leaving Dean and Punk alone.

"How much did you drink, Dean?" Punk asks. He looks concerned, and for a moment Dean's lost for something to say. The alcohol is pointing out just how attractive shaved, and suited Punk is.

"Not so much that I can't have one dance." Dean laughs, and wraps an arm around Punk's waist, pulling him flush to Dean's chest. "You smell nice." He mumbles, inhaling Punk's scent. "Do you always smell like this?" Punk doesn't answer him, his arms simply wrap around Dean, and he starts moving, half dancing half holding Dean up.

They make their way up to the room with very few problems. Punk seems to have become incredibly _squirrely_ since their dance, but Dean supposes it's because he's been drunk, leaving all the responsibility for maintaining their fake relationship on Punk's shoulders, as well as responsibility for keeping Dean upright. When they get into the room, Dean flops down onto the bed, and catches Punk's wrist, pulling him down onto the bed with him.

"Sleep here. It's a big bed." He grins, and it looks like Punk's going to refuse. He's tugging at his wrist trying to free himself. "I won't grope you... I just want you to sleep somewhere nice." If it's the alcohol, or the way so many other people were fawning over Punk that has Dean acting like this, he doesn't know. The only thing he does know is that he wants Punk close by him. Punk's _his_ pretend boyfriend, and he should get the full pretend boyfriend experience, which includes sharing a bed for at least one night. It's been so long since he's shared a bed with someone, and in that moment Punk is the perfect choice for a bedmate.

"For a little bit." Punk concedes, but he does get off the bed anyway.

"Where you going?" Dean stumbles off the bed.

"To brush my teeth." Punk laughs, and Dean nods, following him into the little en suite.

In the bathroom, the alcohol catches up to Dean, but not in the way he'd expected it to. Instead of it making him maudlin, or bilious, it decides to point out how good Punk looks. He'd shed his suit jacket, tie, and shoes when he'd come into the room, and now with the stark lighting in the bathroom, his shirt is almost see-through. Dean can see the colours of his tattoos, can almost make out what they are, but best, or worst of all, Dean can see the lines of Punk's arms, the muscles of his chest, his nipples. He's sitting on the edge of the bathtub staring stupidly whilst Punk talks about something Dean's not even listening to. His mind going back to the after party of Seth's wedding. The image of Seth's groom dancing with Punk, his hands sure and confident on Punk's body as they waltzed. Following that is the image of Seth's expression, his pinched sour little scowl. Dean had been torn between saying something to Seth, and acting at being pissed about another man dancing with his _boyfriend_. In that end, it hadn't mattered. Punk had slipped from the dance floor as soon as the song was over, and came back to Dean. Seth and his husband had gone out to dance, but the memory of Brock's hands on Punk's waist had lingered with Dean. The way Punk looked so small, so fragile compared to that monster of a man. Seth, in that moment, had been so far from Dean's mind. There'd only been room for Punk, only room for imagining what Punk looked like out of that suit, and now in this bathroom, Dean's one step closer to knowing. He forces himself to his feet, wobbling only slightly. He presses himself against Punk's back, his hands on Punk's waist, feeling what Brock had earlier in the evening. The body beneath Punk's clothes is surprisingly firm for a man, who as far as Dean knows, does nothing but sit around reading books. Punk makes a startled noise, and meets Dean's eyes in the mirror. He looks at once slightly afraid, incredibly handsome, and utterly ridiculous, with his toothbrush is still in his mouth, and foam clinging to his beard around his lips. He spits the foam out, and wipes his mouth with a towel, clearly intent on interrupting Dean's barely formed plans.

"I'm going to touch you." Dean mutters, his hands running up Punk's chest. "I'm going to kiss you." He murmurs into Punk's ear, and starts kissing his neck. Punk's not moved since Dean started touching him. His breathing has speeded up considerably though. Dean meets his eyes in the mirror, and smirks as he places another deliberate kiss to Punk's neck. His hands pushing Punk's shirt up, exposing his stomach. "You want me to stop?" Dean trails one hand higher, and the other lower, attempting to open Punk's belt one-handed. Punk looks close to panicking, his eyes wide, and roaming their reflection frantically.

"Dean... You're drunk." He whispers, his head falling back against Dean's shoulder as he succeeds in slipping his hand into Punk's boxers. He starts groping Punk, rolling his balls as much as he can in the tight confines of Punk's boxers.

"Yeah, and?" Dean pulls his hands away, and starts opening Punk's shirt. Once it's open, Dean stares at the tattoo on his chest. He's never seen it before, and the colours fascinate him, the way the waves flow over Punk's chest, the brightness, the complexity, the entire design has him captivated.

"And you're drunk... You won't..." Punk trails off as Dean skims his hands down his stomach again, and starts to unbuckle his belt.

"Do you want me to stop?" Dean repeats, starting on Punk's flies. Punk looks torn, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. "Answer me, Punk." Punk shakes his head, his gaze averted. "Say it." Dean pushes as he slides Punk's pants and boxers down his hips. "Tell me you want this."

"I do... Don't stop, Dean." Punk moans quietly when Dean takes a hold of his cock, stroking it lightly.

"Alright. Bed?" Dean steps away, and heads back to the bed, stripping his clothes off quickly. Punk leaves the bathroom more slowly, hesitation clear in his slow movements. Dean flops back on the bed, and makes a grab for Punk's wrist. "I ain't got nothing..." He admits once he's dragged Punk to the bed. He presses Punk down against the mattress, kissing him frantically. He's never thought about kissing Punk, but now that he's started he's not sure why. He's a good kisser, his hands tangling in Dean's hair gently, his movements careful and thorough in stark contrast to Dean's messy, drunken ones.

"I... Wait." Punk pushes at Dean's shoulders, trying to get him to stop, or at least slow down. "Stop." Punk moans, and Dean pauses in the trail of kisses he'd been making down Punk's throat. Punk squirms out from under him, and slips from the bed, coming back quickly. He still looks uncertain, his expression tightly closed off as he sits on the edge of the bed. "You're drunk, Dean." He repeats, pleading almost, and Dean laughs at him. He sits behind Punk, and starts pressing nipping kisses over the back of his shoulders.

"I can still get it up, Punk." He chuckles, feeling Punk tense at that statement. What ever it is that's bothering Punk, it's not that, but Dean's decided that he wants sex, and while he's a little reluctant, Punk does seem interested, his hard hard cock confirms that. Dean starts groping Punk's chest once more, squeezing his surprisingly solid feeling pecs, and trailing lower, skimming down as much of his thighs as Dean can reach. "I'm going to fuck you." He almost whispers it in Punk's ear, feeling a shiver working through him. "If you don't want it, tell me." Punk turns in Dean's arms, and starts kissing him again. He presses Dean back against the bed, his touches to Dean's face are careful, _loving_ almost, but that doesn't really register with Dean. He's more concerned with getting on with this. The decision to have sex has been made, and Dean wants to get on with it. He flips them over gracelessly, and then finds himself staring down at Punk. His eyes are hard to make out in the darkness of the room, his expression lost to the shadows, but that's not what caught Dean's attention. The tattoo on Punk's chest is far more captivating than Dean would like to admit. He can't help but wonder how long it must have taken, how much it must have hurt, how much money it must have cost.

"Dean?" Punk reaches up to Dean, draws him down for another kiss. It's slow, sensual, and instead of dominating it, Dean follows Punk's pace, kissing him gently. It's _so_ painfully like kissing Seth had been back when he loved Dean. He breaks the kiss as soon as that thought occurs to him.

"Did you bring lube?" He asks gruffly. He's trawling his memory for the taste of Seth, but he can't recall it, and that hurts, he doesn't want to lose more of Seth. Punk shakes his head at Dean's question, clearly not sure what's caused the sudden change in Dean.

"I didn't think to... Maybe this is a sign that this isn't the best-"

"It's fine." Dean grabs the bottle from him, and pops the cap. It's some kind of lotion, he's not sure what, but it doesn't matter, what matters is it'll slick Punk's ass enough for Dean to fuck him. He coats one finger, and presses it into Punk.

" _Hey_!" He gasps, pain hovering in his tone. "It's been a while..." He mutters. One of his hands tangle in Dean's hair, trying to draw him down for another kiss, but Dean resists. He's already lost Seth's taste, he doesn't want to taint the memory of kissing him any more. Punk withdraws his hand, and Dean looks down at him, meets Punk's eyes, catches the look of pained confusion in them. Dean's certain something in this encounter has changed for Punk, but he's not certain what. Punk's biting his bottom lip, his face turned pointedly away as Dean preps him. "I'm ready." Punk sounds _wrong_ when he speaks again, but Dean's too drunk to work out what the wrongness is, instead he sinks to the warmth of Punk's body, feeling his tight passage clenching and relaxing around his cock, trying to adjust to the intrusion. Punk's legs wrap around Dean's waist, his head still pointedly turned to the side, his eyes closed.

"Are-"

"Just move." Punk snaps, suddenly sounding incredibly annoyed. Dean nods absently, and starts moving, drawing back, then easing forward. Punk doesn't seem to want to look at Dean, even when Dean attempts to get another kiss, Seth's memory be damned Punk looks like he _needs_ to be kissed, he keeps his head turned, leaving Dean to lap and nip at his neck. This had started fun. In Dean's mind it'd started as a nice distraction from Seth, but some thing isn't right about this, and he can't put his finger on what. The longer he fucks Punk, the most relaxed he seems to get, his body arching into Dean's thrusts. His hands clutch at Dean's shoulders, his heels digging into Dean's back, drawing him in deeper, harder, faster. He can feel Punk's cock trapped between them, hard and leaking pre-cum. One of his hands squirm between them, and Dean can feel him jerking off.

"You gonna cum?" Dean asks, nipping at Punk's ear. "You a screamer, Punk?" Punk shakes his head, the grip his legs have on Dean's waist tightening more. "Go on, cum for me." Dean thrusts into him once more, which seems to trigger Punk's orgasm. His ass tightens around Dean's cock, his body trembling slightly with pleasure. Dean manages a few more stuttering thrusts, and cums deep inside Punk's body. "Thanks, Punkin." Dean chuckles as he pulls out, rolls over, and falls asleep.

Sunday morning Dean wakes up with a hangover that's no where near as bad as yesterday's, and the strange awareness of someone else in bed with him. He's slept alone for the last two years, but he's not forgotten what it's like to lie in a bed with someone else there. He turns to his side, and stares at Punk's back. He's curled into a little ball on his side, trying to take up as little space as possible. Dean's not entirely sure what he should do. He'd definitely not intended to have sex with Punk. He'd expected to do nothing but being spectacularly drunk all weekend, and have Punk play the part of the exasperated _boyfriend_. Sex hadn't been on the cards, and he's not sure how he feels about having slept with Punk. Maybe Punk won't bring it up. It might be that Punk will chalk this up to Dean being drunk, and miserable, so he won't mention it again. It will change things between them, but Dean hopes it won't ruin their friendship. He'd hate to lose Punk as a room-mate. He's fairly quiet, he pays the rent on time, he even cooks occasionally. He's a good person to live with, and Dean hopes one drunken accident won't spoil that. He reaches out, tentatively touching Punk's back, his brain recalling the softness of his skin, and the bright colours inked across Punk's chest.

"Punk?" Dean whispers tentatively. He hopes Punk's asleep, and when he doesn't answer Dean heaves a sigh of relief. He slips from bed, and goes to the shower. When he returns to the bedroom, the bed is empty. Thankfully Punk's bag is still there, so at least he's still in the hotel. Unlike yesterday, there's no set plan for today, and Dean's hoping it'll pass quickly. He'd quite like to spend some time out on the slopes, he's never tried skiing, and now seems like as good a time as any to learn.

"And then, he knocks the guy clean out." A loud laugh Dean doesn't recognise follows that statement, then laughter Dean does know, Seth's awkward squawking laugh, and Punk's more mellow one don't mix well. Once Dean had been delighted by Seth's laugh, but now he will concede it is rather grating. "I do miss-"

"Dean!" Seth calls out to him as Dean enters the dining room. Dean approaches the table slowly, sitting around it is Seth, looking radiant, his _husband_ , Punk, and a rotund man Dean doesn't recognise. The large man has an arm slung over Punk's shoulders, and surprisingly Punk looks entirely comfortable with that. The memory from Friday comes back to Dean, and he wonders if this is what Brock meant by _bigger_.

"Morning." Dean mutters, pouring himself a cup of coffee, and taking a seat at the table. He's not sure what's going on, but he feels like he's missing something important.

"I'm going to assume you don't remember me, Mr Ambrose." The fat man says, and Punk shakes his head, a wry smile on his lips as he meets Dean's eyes.

"Uh... Not exactly." Dean offers. He's trying to decipher the message Punk's trying to give him with that look, but he can't. He's no idea what that expression means.

"Well then, please allow me to re-introduce myself." The corpulent man takes his arm from around Punk, and holds his hand out to Dean. "My name is Paul Heyman. I was Philip's manager, back when he was still fighting." Dean takes Paul's hand, shaking it absently as he stares at Punk. "And you have no idea what I'm talking about, do you? Really, Philip."

"Leave it, Paul." Punk snaps, and Paul laughs at him.

"Is this _another_ one of these silly _I don't want him to know my past_ bullshit relationships? Honestly, I thought you'd grown-"

"I said _leave it_ , Paul." Punk repeats, and beside him Paul laughs once more. The pair exchange a look that says this will be discussed later, and Dean sits there feeling _very_ out of the loop.

" _So_!" Seth cuts in, his smile strained. His husband seems amused more than anything, a grin on his face. "What's everyone's plans for today? I think we-"

"I was dating Phil, you were dating Seth... It's kind of funny how we switched, isn't it?" The husband says suddenly, his eyes focussed on Dean.

" _Brock!_ " Seth screeches, and smacks his husband's shoulder. Punk pales, and glances away. Dean laughs slightly at Brock's comment, and wonders what exactly Punk hasn't told him about himself.

"Yeah... Small world, isn't it?" He reaches over the table, and takes one of Punk's hands squeezing it firmly. "Who'd have guessed I'd end up with your ex... So, who did the dumping? Phil here never told me." Punk looks decidedly uncomfortable, and Brock looks positively gleeful. He launches into a _very_ surprising story, one Dean knew nothing of, and is incredibly embarrassed by his lack of knowledge on. He's known Punk for a long time, but he knew none of this. When Brock finishes talking Punk looks murderous, and Paul laughs loudly at his expression.

"Philip, you didn't honestly think you could keep the truth hidden forever, did you? Even if you are _dating_ a clueless idiot-"

"Hey!" Punk cuts in, his ire turned to Paul instead. "Dean isn't an idiot. I didn't want to date someone who was interested in getting into the business, and Dean has zero interest in who I was, or what I did." Paul raises an eyebrow, and Dean squeezes Punk's hand. Punk had said he wasn't much of an actor, but that was a very convinced performance of a man rushing to his lover's defence.

"Who you are, and what you do, Philip." Paul says mildly. "You're lucky you're with a man who trusts you enough to not ask too many _questions_." Paul looks over at Dean, a lazy smile on his lips. "You've not been together long though, have you?" Dean shakes his head, and Paul nods understandingly. "He's very important to me, Mr Ambrose. _If_ you're sticking around, take care of him." Paul ruffles Punk's hair, and leaves the table.

After breakfast, Dean had intended to corner Punk, and ask him how much of what Brock told him was true. He can't see Punk as a cage fighter, but there'd been no denials from anyone else seated at the table, especially none from Punk. It does explain how firm and solid Punk's body had felt last night, but the idea of Punk being engaged in something so violent shocks Dean. He seems so calm, a little standoffish, but mostly not the violent type. The other major revelation Brock made was that Punk was the commentator for Paul's company. That Dean can see more easily, but still the whole idea of Punk and cage fighting, it jars with what Dean knows of him. Punk isn't the violent type, and there's nothing but violence when it comes to punching men in the face. Cornering Punk proved impossible though. Paul monopolised Punk's time, talking shop with him. Even at meal times, Paul was there talking Punk's ear off, leaving Dean with nothing to do but brood and drink. Both he did admirably. He'd led Punk up here with false promises of skiing, and hot chocolate, but all there's been is a lot of wine, a lot of miserable feelings, and last night. Dean would quite like to talk to Punk about that too, but there really seems like there's no way around the considerable obstacle that is Paul Heyman. So, Dean drinks, drinks, and drinks some more, until eventually he forgets why he started drinking in the first place, just like the last two days he's spent in this hotel.

"Of course he doesn't know... How could he?" Punk's soft voice gently draws Dean from his alcohol induced sleep. "No, it's okay... Alright, so it's not okay, but it will be. I can handle this, it's just tomorrow morning, and everything goes back to normal." There's a long pause, a pause in which Punk shifts, and carefully strokes Dean's hair from his forehead. It's hard to pretend to be asleep under that gentle touch. "I know it won't be the same. I _know_ that too." He sighs softly, his fingers trailing over Dean's face carefully. "I... I wasn't. He _needed_ me, how could I say no?" There's another long pause, and Dean can hear a muffled voice talking to Punk. He's clearly on the phone to someone. "He doesn't need that... He doesn't need anything from me, but half the rent." It's getting harder to lie still under the so very gentle caresses Punk's giving Dean's face. He suddenly stops, and gets off the bed. The bathroom door opens, then closes quietly behind Punk. "I know. I wasn't thinking, we established that!" Punk sounds annoyed with whoever he's talking to, and Dean shifts in the bed so that he's closer to the door. "Dammit, I know! I'm a fucking idiot! I know this already. I don't know why I thought talking to you would be any use! What? You expect me to just blurt it out? Hey Dean, you wanna know why I never told you who I was? You wanna know why I didn't tell you I was kinda famous? Well! It's cause I wanted you to get to know me. It's cause I think you're fucking gorgeous, and I wanna fuck you. Oh, and before I forget, I might slightly be in love with you, no biggie though. _Yeah, that's a great idea_!" Dean's eyes widen at that. Punk wants to fuck him? He thinks Dean's gorgeous? He's in _love_ with Dean? It's not exactly what he was expecting to hear, but it does mean that what happened on Saturday night makes more sense. Dean might have been drunk and angry, but Punk wanted it. He wanted whatever Dean would give him, not because Dean needed it, not because he was horny too, but because it was Dean. For the first time since he's been in this hotel, Dean feels sick for a reason other than alcohol. He took advantage of Punk. It might have been consensual and willingly given, but he undoubtedly took advantage of Punk. "I have one favour to ask of him... One thing, and I know what it is. I'll ask him when we're back, and it'll be done." Dean swallows back the bile that's climbing up his throat, and stares up at the ceiling. "No, not that. I'm going to ask him to find a new room-mate. I can't stay with him after this. Can I? Thanks, man. I'll be over on Tuesday." Punk stays in the bathroom for a long time, and Dean feels sicker, and sicker. He _thinks_ he can hear sobbing, and he really hopes it's just his mind playing tricks on him. If he'd known Punk was attracted to him, he'd never would have asked him to do this, but he didn't. Punk was too good at hiding the truth of himself, and Dean hurt him. He's going to have to find a new room-mate, because he's almost certain he can't make this up to Punk. He can't imagine how Punk must feel. To be nothing but a hole to fuck to the person you're in love with has to be the worst feeling in the world.

He must have fallen asleep at some stage, because when Dean wakes up again, Punk's not there. His bags are packed, and thankfully still there, so Punk must still be in the hotel. Dean dresses, and packs quickly ad he tries to process everything he learned about his room-mate yesterday. It was a day of revelations, a weekend of revelations really, and Dean's not sure how he feels about any of them. Punk's secretive, too secretive, and Dean's no idea how to react to any of those secrets now that they're revealed. Successful, handsome, kind of famous, employed in general, there's so much more to Punk than Dean ever knew, and he feels a fool for never trying harder to find out more about him.

At breakfast, Punk does an incredible job of playing at Dean's _boyfriend_ , and an incredible job of hiding the pain Dean had heard last night. If he hadn't overheard that phone call, he'd assume that everything was fine, but he did overhear, and he knows that everything isn't fine. How he's going to bring it up, how he's going to apologise he's not sure, but he has the whole ride home to think about it.

The drive back is tense. Punk had taken the driver's seat, and seems to be intent on getting them back home as quickly as possible, speeding tickets be damned. Dean keeps glancing at him, wondering how he could have known someone for so long, but _know_ so very little about him. Punk's kind of famous. He's kind of well known. He's kind of a big deal, and Dean had absolutely no clue. Former cage fighter, current voice of one of the biggest fighting companies in the world. Punk's not just the guy Dean rents an apartment with, Punk's _somebody_. He could have told Dean. He could have mentioned it, so Dean didn't look like an idiot all day yesterday. Though, that's the least of Dean's problems when it comes to Punk. There's the overheard phone-call from last night. Punk has _feelings_ for him. This whole thing was unspeakably cruel, and there's no way to make this up to Punk.

"Hey, Punk?" Dean starts, and Punk glances over at him.

"You overheard my phone call, didn't you?" He snaps, seemingly resentful of having to give way at a junction. Dean nods slightly, and Punk winces, drumming his fingers on the wheel as he starts driving once more. "I'm moving out. The favour I'm going to ask you is to forget about this whole thing." His voice is sharply terse. Dean takes a deep breath, steeling himself for what he's about to do.

"Pullover." He says it desperately, like he's close to being sick. Punk swears under his breath, but does pull over at the side of the road. Dean gets out of the car, and walks around it, opening the driver's door. He grabs Punk's arm, and pulls him out of the car. He knows now that Punk could lay him out easily enough, but Punk willingly allows himself to be dragged out of the vehicle. "I'm sorry." Punk laughs, and shakes his head.

"Don't." Dean tries to speak again, but Punk holds his hand up. "It's... It'll be fine. You'll find a new room-mate, and it'll be fine." Dean huffs out a breath, and bats Punk's hand down.

"I'm trying to apologise to you. Will you-"

"You don't need to apologise to me, Dean. You were drunk, and I... I took advantage of that. If there's anyone who needs to apologise, it's me. I'm sorry, and I'll be gone by Tuesday. I'll pay the rent till you can find someone-"

"Stop." Dean snaps. Punk falls silent, his gaze fixed on the ground. The vague memory of his naked body, the details of the tattoos on his chest, the way he felt around Dean's dick forces itself to the fore of Dean's mind. It's not the time, so very much not the time, but he can't help remembering. It felt good, different to how it felt with Seth, but so very good all the same. "I didn't know how you felt. If I had none of this would have happened." Punk looks like he's going to interrupt, so Dean forges on. "If I'd known you were even a little attracted to me-"

"You'd have done nothing, because you're not attracted to me." Punk laughs at him, and Dean suddenly finds the ground as interesting as Punk had.

"You looked homeless for a year and a half." Dean mumbles, earning another laugh from Punk. "I can see you now and I li-"

"If you were ever my friend, Dean, don't finish that sentence." Punk's voice is rough, so much so that it almost hurts to hear it.

"Don't move out." Punk clearly wasn't expecting Dean to say that, he looks genuinely shocked, his eyes wide. "I like living with you... I wanna keep living with you. If you want to make that favour that we never talk about this again, then okay. I'd... I wanna talk about this though." Dean laughs suddenly, and shakes his head as he hops up to sit on the hood of the car. "I wanna talk about it, but I've no fucking clue what to say. You think you were taking advantage of me-"

"I was!" Punk cuts in. "I knew that you'd do pretty much nothing but get drunk this weekend. I knew that seeing Seth would be hard for you. I didn't know that Brock was gonna be there, but I knew he was marrying a fighter, and that they'd probably know me. I knew that things would get _messy_ , but I still went along with it, because I wanted to help you, because I wanted you to be grateful. Fuck... I wanted you to at least _see_ me for a change. You came here to get Seth back, and I came here hoping you'd forget all about him. Stupid, huh?" Punk's laugh is bitterly self-deprecating.

"We were both stupid." Dean offers, getting another horrid laugh from Punk in response. "I was stupid to think I could get Seth back. He's moved on, and I'm living in the past." Dean's fingers feel twitchy, like there's something they'd like to be doing, but he's not sure what. "I did see you, Punk. I saw you before the suit, and the shave-"

"And the money." Punk snaps, his arms folding across his chest.

"Money? What money?" Dean stares at him blankly for a moment, then he realises that Punk must have a fair bit in the bank, that his past as a fighter must have made him a fair amount, and his job with Paul must keep his bank account well subsided.

"It honestly never occurred to you?" Punk laughs, then flops down on the grass at the roadside. "All you saw was a weird scruffy dude... You probably thought I sold drugs to pay the rent."

"The words _drug free_ are tattooed across your knuckles, Punk. Trust me, I didn't think you sold them." Dean laughs, gazing down at the top of Punk's head. "I thought you were some rich kid playing at poverty." Punk shakes his head, a sad little chuckle escaping him.

"I've had to fight for everything." He sighs, and lifts his head, meeting Dean's eyes. "I didn't want to have to fight anymore. I wanted you, Dean, but I don't have it in me to fight anymore, so I just kind of hoped you settle for me as a participation trophy, because there's no way I could win a fight for you, I'm too tired." He drops his head once more, and Dean stares down at him, trying to work out what he should do.

"There's no one to fight for me." Dean slips down from the hood, and sits beside Punk. "Unless you count me, and the fact I'm an idiot." Dean nudges Punk's shoulder lightly, hoping to get some kind of reaction other than the exhausted misery Punk seems to be lost in.

"And still in love with someone else." Punk shakes his head, and when it looks like he's going to stand Dean grabs his wrist, holding him in place.

"Sorry about grabbing you, I should have warned you." Dean doesn't release his grip on Punk, instead he stares down at Punk's fingers. "I'm going to hold your hand." He says before he entwines their fingers. Punk sits very still, so still that Dean's not sure he's breathing.

"Okay." Punk says eventually, not looking at Dean, his gaze turned to the sky. Dean can't quite keep the smile from his lips as he watches Punk not looking at him. Without all that beard in the way, Punk really is so much better looking.

"I'm going to ask you to not let your beard get that long again." Punk shrugs at Dean's words, his attention not shifting from the sky.

"Okay." He says quietly.

"I'm going to ask you not to move out." Dean reaches over, and turns Punk's face towards him. He's not over Seth. Getting over Seth is going to take a long time, longer than the two years Dean's been trying, but he has to make a start, and Punk is interested. Interested, but currently looking very confused by Dean. "I'm going to kiss you." Dean leans in, and Punk pulls away.

"No." He stands, but hasn't pulled his hand free from Dean's. "Not yet. If you're asking what I think you are we're going to do it properly, _honestly_." Punk tugs on his hand, and Dean stands, keeping a tight grip on Punk.

"Alright." He nods, Punk's statement is reasonable. It's a much better idea to start over, to be honest with each other, honest with everyone else too.

"Good. Then..." Punk glances away, and takes a deep breath. "My favour is this, go on a date with me."

* * *

 ** _If you enjoyed - Please review. A few kind words are an elixir to my weary soul._**


End file.
